Brijnath Betab's poem titled Maet-aab. A sombre but forceful description of the fateful night when loudspeakers from all mosques and city centers were pronoucing "death to infidels" and "defiling of their women"....A poet in despair,fear,agony,disbelief......murmurs the night as the morning refuses to come by..... full text of the poem on
This night death looms large on every road
Laying a siege for someone in his room
Putting a trap for someone at his abode
This night has broken all my fallacies
This night darkness has dawned over light
I hold in support my blood soaked Phiran
As the night shall move again
To some safe heaven,Crying in pain.
Bandaging the blood oozing wounds
This night shall now flee away,
Far away, far far away and far away,
Tomorrow of course when the morning breeze
Shall come to enquire about us
Scattered we shall be
Representing a chopped off body.
In the deserts
Devastated as we shall be
Holding our back
To the support of huge stones
Under the blistering heat in the open,
This city of our ancestors
Shall look like a town of ghosts.